


we are just the dust of fallen stars (for you are an ethereal titan of yore)

by lumizoomi



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, fast slow burn, im sleeppy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27754567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumizoomi/pseuds/lumizoomi
Summary: It's a beautiful day in Revendreth. You're Sire Denathrius's personal soup mixer--but he's getting sick of you. There's a new girl in town: a new fixture of the master's attention. Will you and Drippy every win back the master's attention for the good of his people?
Relationships: Amary from Discord/Denathrius, You - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 11





	1. for you are but one flower in my butterfly garden

**Author's Note:**

> For my dear friend.

"Yes," said Sire Denathrius as you approached his bedside (a recently thrifted futon) to awaken him. "Morning." You can distinctly remember your objections to his spontaneous idea of selling his massive Gary Oldman-Dracula-esque four-poster bed in favor of purchasing a shitty little couch. "Silence, soup mixer," he had told you, anger twinging his typical bravado in which his subjects were typically regarded. 

But... he's been different, lately. Since that new champion came around. 

He had reviled her at first, chuckling at her meager countenance as he drained a portion of her anima for his own. This granted her access to some powers that only the members of the Venthyr had, and his court--your people--felt only pure discussed. She was, of course, an outsider. A mere mortal who dared to set her paltry feet upon the Sire's hallowed ground. 

"Look," said the mortal, who you've garnered held the name of 'Amary'. Her limpid blue orbs bore into the burning crimson seeing-orbs belonging to your master. She needed not continue, for he was already under her spell. Standing betwixt your best friends Lord Chamberlain and the little Drudger affectionately dubbed 'Drippy'. 

"Denny." She snapped her fingers in front of his face. He sniffed suddenly, yanked back into consciousness by the deft click of her nimble milk-colored figners. 

"This is fucking ridiculous," quipped Drippy, sighing much more deeply than a little imp man ever should. Your best friend, Lord Chamberlain, nodded sagely. 

"I fear our master may be lost to the whims of this lustful Jezebel," responded Chamberlain in that quasi-British accent of his.

> > > > > >

to be continued: soon, but not quite yet so.


	2. "Fool. I am the new lord of this house, and from it I will conquer earth with hellfire." - Shakespeare Hemmingway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast.

“Yes,” said Denathrius as he sat down sexily at the breakfast counter. “Breakfast.”

You approached him, cauldron full of corn chowder gripped between your vampire hands as you stirred it carefully. You were, after all, Sire Denathrius’s personal soup mixer. “I have your morning soup,” you said tenderly and full of concern for his current wellbeing. He gazed at you, disconcert brimming in those crimson fiery orbs of sight.

“I want not soup, vile heathen! Away with you!” he screamed. You shook with fear as you scuttled away dejectedly. Something was wrong. Your master ALWAYS wanted soup. He’s been having soup for breakfast for the past millennia at least.

“Good morning best friend!” you heard a familiar British voice call into the dining hall. 

“Ah, Chambey!” you exclaimed, nearly sloshing your corn chowder all over the floor as you rushed to the side of your BFF. “Have you seen Drippy this morning?”

“Nay,” came his reply, hissing a breath through his disgusting fangs. “Though I have seen that horrible wench.”

Ah yes, you remember her. The new champion—the mortal—arriven from Azeroth only yesterday. At that very moment, she trotted into the dining hall wearing nought but a T-shirt and jeans. 

“Ay yo Denny!” she called. Sire Denathrius perked up at the sound of her Canadian accent, like a little songbird from Petco. “I brought Lucky Charms.” She approached his spot at the head of the long table and deposited a styrofoam bowl in front of him. 

“This is utterly ridiculous and I will stand for it no longer.” Lord Chamberlain stomped over to the Sire, his stupid hair that looks like an ass quivering with anger. “Sire. This must end immediately. This Jezebel is feeding you cereal from the mortal plane! What of your daily soup meal?” he cried out in anguish. Denathrius started to chuckle, the deep noise reverberating in his rib cage and threatening to split the very ground on which your feet stood in two. He reached a disgusting clawed hand towards Amary and grabbed her wrist. 

“You all discuss me. You understand not of love nor passion. Eat shit.” He scooped the mortal woman into his flaccid arms and dissolved into a cloud of bats. Before you could say nosferatu, he and Amary were gone.

“Fuck!” screamed Lord Chamberlain as he began to lose his marbles. He started swinging his limbs wildly, tossing cutlery and all sorts of breakfast foods from the dining table to the floor. He even hit you in his rage, knocking your cauldron of corn chowder from your grip and splattering it all over your goth vampire clothes and the floor.

“Please, calm down,” you pleaded. All of a suddenly, there was a strange knock at the large door to the dining hall. 

“Come in!” you called. The massive double doors slowly opened to reveal... nothing.

“Uhm, down here,” said a horrific nasally voice. Everyone casted their gaze down to see a... little gnome, dressed in a blue wizard hat. You were utterly confounded, as his limbs seemed to be mechanical. He bingled miserably across the floor and to your feet, where he looked up at you. “I’m here to solve your problem.”

Cock penis schlong manhood

> > > > >

Denethor Prius gently dropped Amary down face first into a bank of dirt. Romantic. She spat and sputtered, trying to rid her mouth of the gritty earth sand. 

“Alas, we are free together my love,” he said as she continued choking and crying, her eyes full of silt. “Bitch are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she responded, regaining her composure. “I never got to eat my breakfast before you...” she drifted off. “Wait, did you turn into a cloud of bats? Fucking bats?” 

Denathrius wanted to hold her hand. So he did.

> > > > >

to be continued: soon, but not quite yet so.


End file.
